


Poker in River City

by Alice5360



Category: The Music Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Poker, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice5360/pseuds/Alice5360
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set three months after the end of the play. River City is having growing pains; Harold comes up with an idea to influence the mayor and improve conditions for the town. Based on the portrayals in the 2003 Disney made for TV version.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The information regarding gaslight and electrical power in the early 20th century is as accurate as I could get it (without boring the reader to death). I hope you enjoy this piece. "The Music Man" is my all-time favorite musical and I consider this a labor of love.

Fall had come; the days were shortening fast and there was a chill in the air. A few leaves swept down around Harold’s shoulders as he and Marcellus headed to West Elm Street. It had been another long day of band practice and chores in the River City Hotel (Marcellus had hired Harold as his assistant). Long but productive, Harold thought. Strange to think that he found more satisfaction in a day like this than he’d ever felt after pulling off a con. In those days his motto had been: Put it behind you, keep going, on to the next town. Light a cigar and don’t think about it.

As they turned in the gate the voices of Mrs. Paroo and Marian reached them. Marian’s indignant tones signaled that something wasn’t right; Marcellus cringed in exaggerated fear.

“Gotta let you calm her down before I say hello, Greg. I don’t want a book thrown at my head.”

“C’mon, Marce.” Harold clapped him on the shoulder. “She won’t throw a book at your head. Winthrop! What’s upsetting your sister?” he added to the boy who had just joined them on the porch.

“I dunno, Professor.” Winthrop shrugged. “Something about the Mayor, I think. They keep talking about it and talking about it. I told them I was going to play marbles with Jack and Dennis and they didn’t even notice I was leaving.”

“Did you win?”

Winthrop smiled – a real smile. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s my boy.” Harold ruffled his hair affectionately as they went inside.

 

“Good evening, ladies. Would you be able to feed three hungry gentlemen tonight?”

Mrs. Paroo beamed at the three of them. “Of course, darlin’. And it’s hungry you must be after the day you had. Winthrop! I didn’t know you had gone. What were you doing this afternoon?”

“Playing marbles.” As his mother took him off to wash his hands, Winthrop enthusiastically described every marble he had won. Marian looked after him with a fond smile.

“He’s a completely different boy from six months ago. And it’s all thanks to you.” Marcellus tactfully studied a picture hanging on the parlor wall while she greeted Harold with a kiss.

“Oh, I think you and your mother may have had something to do with it.” Harold glanced up as the lights suddenly dimmed in the parlor. “What’s going on? The electricity again?”

“Yes. Exactly.” Marian looked exasperated.

“Exactly what, Madam Librarian?” Harold asked as they sat down.

“River City put up a small power station down by the river about six years ago. It was enough for a while. But more and more people in town are switching from gaslight, and with the new electrical appliances coming out the supply just isn’t enough for the town anymore. They don’t run the power during the day, only at night, and at this time of year with shorter days – well, you can imagine the extra strain on the power system. The lights are going out more and more often now.” Marian made an exasperated gesture. “We still have some gas outlets in the house, but if we’re burning both gas and electricity our bill will go up.”

“Miss Marian’s right, Greg,” Marcellus contributed. “Over t’ the hotel we still use gas. Mr. Toffelmier won’t switch over to electricity till he knows it won’t keep going out on us.”

“I see a nice candelabra or two in here. Let me light some candles for you and it’ll add that _je ne_ something to dinner.” Harold raised an eyebrow and got the laugh he was hoping for from Marian.

“That would be nice, now you mention it. Let’s do that.”

The power went out for good that evening shortly after they started dinner. Thanks to Harold’s forethought, the candles made a fine substitute. Marcellus talked about his fiancée’s trip to visit her sister, who had just had a baby. Winthrop talked about his cornet and about marbles. Mrs. Paroo filled in most of the gaps in the conversation. Marian smiled at Harold every time their eyes met, which was frequently; and Harold looked thoughtful.

 

After supper Mrs. Paroo settled Winthrop at the kitchen table with the gas lit so he could finish his homework. She shooed Marian from the kitchen – “this won’t take five minutes. Go talk to your man” – and the other three returned to the now cleared table.

Harold lost no time in returning to the question of the town’s power supply. “I know this frustrates you, but there seems to be more to it. Winthrop said you were talking about the mayor earlier today.”

“I was. Mayor Shinn is making me furious. He won’t do anything about improving the power supply. He wants to spend money on improving the roads and the railroad bridge into town, which isn’t a bad idea, but I think the electrical problem needs to be solved first.”

“And how do we do that? I didn’t know you were an expert on electricity. Or did you research it?”

“I did, a little. I first heard about this from Tommy Djilas, by way of Zaneeta, so it’s a little confusing, but it seems there’s a new system called… alternating current? It’s different from the Edison system we’re using now. It’s more reliable and alternating current holds power better, so the electricity doesn’t weaken the further you move away from the station. If we had alternating current Tommy’s family and the other families south of town could get electricity for the first time.”

“Well, you’ve convinced me. If Tommy’s family and the other families would benefit… if the town would benefit… but Mayor Shinn won’t agree to it?”

“I’ve tried to talk to him myself and even asked the School Board to bring it up. The last town meeting, as soon as we raised the issue, he cut us off and said ‘You’ve dissimulated the priorities of River City.’ Whatever that means.”

“That’s the mayor,” Mrs. Paroo added with a shrug as she returned to the dining room. “Sometimes I think the town keeps running in spite of him, not because of him.”

“He’s not exactly our ace in the hole,” Marcellus agreed.

Harold glanced up with a start. He had been watching the candlelight play over Marian’s face, but now he looked at his old friend with a mischievous grin. “That’s an interesting turn of phrase, Marce. Gives me an idea.” He looked around the table. “We need to get the mayor on our side. What’s the best way to do that?”

“Make our case,” Marian said flatly.

Harold shook his head. “That assumes Mayor Shinn is open to logic. _Is_ Mayor Shinn open to logic?” This question brought a snort from Mrs. Paroo, but no other response. “What do you do when you know someone doesn’t want to hear what you have to say? Get them to relax. Get them off guard.”

“And how on earth are you goin’ to do that?” Mrs. Paroo demanded.

“We’re going to play poker.”

“You mean for money?” Marian gasped.

“It isn’t about the money so much, although I think Mayor Shinn would be disappointed if we didn’t have at least a small pot going. It’s just a friendly game. You’d be surprised the information people let slip after an hour or two playing cards. Sometimes you even hear stories about yourself,” he added with a grin. “So after a while, I drop a hint or two and listen to what he has to say. Then I ask a few very simple questions. With luck, that might influence him enough to change his mind.”

Marcellus was glowing with enthusiasm. “You’ve got it, Greg!”

Marian was less optimistic. “It does make sense, but… if he loses?”

“He won’t lose,” Harold replied quietly. “I will lose, but he won’t.”

This brought a laugh from Mrs. Paroo. “Aren’t you the one!”

“Mamma, really!”

Harold leaned forward. “Marian, I promised you no secrets. Yes, I’ve been known to cheat at cards, but that’s a thing of the past. Even when I did it was a rare thing. I’m pretty good at poker, you see. I am going to do my best to see the mayor wins because I want to put him in a good mood. Besides, if he loses he’d immediately suspect me of cheating whether I did or not. I don’t need to antagonize him more than I already have.”

Marian took his hand. “I’m sorry, Harold. I trust you, we all do. I’ve just never heard of anyone trying something like this before. It’s a little unorthodox.”

“A little unorthodox behavior is good for the soul, my dear.” He watched Marian blush as she returned his smile. “If I can use my skills to help people instead of hurting them, I think I should. It’s only fair.” He looked around the table. “Let’s have a vote. Yea or nay?”

The “Yea” was unanimous.

As Marian stood on the porch saying goodnight to her love, she gave a start. “Harold, I just thought of something. How do we know the mayor plays poker?”

“A politician who owns a billiard parlor? I _know_ that man plays poker. Goodnight, my someone.” He swept her into a breathless embrace, smiled into her eyes and headed down the street, whistling.


	2. Chapter 2

Harold’s standby rule, when possible, had always been: Get the mark to think it’s his idea. With this in mind he spent several days polishing his strategy, timing it for the next Sunday after church. Strolling up the main street with Marian on his arm, they dawdled until the Shinn clan was nearby. At that point they were joined by Marcellus and Ethel; as prearranged, Marian began to talk to Ethel about her new nephew and Marcellus and Harold edged closer to the Mayor.

“Some game, Gr– Harold. I still can’t believe you bluffed me out of that straight flush.”

“Just luck, Marce, just luck. Ah, Mayor Shinn, Mrs. Shinn. How are you today?”

“Oh, wonderfully well, Professor!” fluttered Mrs. Shinn. “I hope you are the same?”

“Certainly am. Miss Zaneeta, a pleasure to see you.” Harold dropped her a wink, which Zaneeta answered with a giggle. As everyone in town but the Mayor seemed to know – yep, Eulalie Shinn’s determinedly innocent expression was a dead giveaway – Tommy Djilas and Zaneeta were meeting at the library on an almost daily basis.

“Daddy!” young Gracie Shinn (a born tattletale) whined. “Daddy, Zaneeta and – ”

“And how are _you_ , Miss Gracie?” Marcellus cut in quickly. “Gosh, you’re gettin’ bigger every time I see ya –” Zaneeta rescued him by deftly kicking her sister in the shin.

“Ow! Daddy!”

“George, you haven’t forgotten my tea with the Ladies’ Auxiliary this afternoon, have you?”

Looking rather desperate, the Mayor seized on a change of subject. “Did I hear the words ‘straight flush’? Hill, do you and Mr. Washburn here play poker?”

“On occasion we do, Mr. Mayor. Just for fun. I don’t suppose you play yourself?”

Shinn harrumphed. “Oh, I’ve been known to play a hand or two. Haven’t had much time recently.”

“I find it’s very relaxing at the end of the week. You know, to sit down with one’s fellow man for a bit of quiet conversation and a little card strategy.” Harold let the image dangle invitingly.

The man gave a sigh. “Damned if I wouldn’t join you.”

“Well please do, Mr. Mayor. It would be an honor. We usually meet at the hotel, in Mr. Toffelmeier’s back room. Just let me or Marcellus know.” Harold gave a quick glance over his shoulder. “I believe Miss Marian is requesting my attention. Excuse me.”

“Well?” Marian asked eagerly as he rejoined her.

“He’s interested. Now we wait and see.”

Sure enough, two days later Shinn dropped into band practice. He listened, praised the progress the boys were making and followed Harold out of the auditorium at the end of the session.

“I’ve been thinking about, ah, your kind invitation from a few days ago. Were you planning to play this week?”

“Yes, Mr. Mayor, we were.”

“Well then, I believe I will. Thank you. If you don’t mind, I might bring a friend or two along.”

Harold reassured the mayor that this would be fine. He had his own ideas about who Shinn would invite to the game and on Friday he was not surprised when a worried Marcellus accosted him at the door to the hotel. 

“Greg! Mayor Shinn’s here with Constable Locke!”

“Of course he is, Marce. Don’t worry.”

“You knew this was gonna happen?”

“I guessed. It’ll be fine. Remember, there’s more at stake here than a few dollars. We’re playing for River City’s future. I tell you, Marce, I never knew going legit could be so much fun.”

Jacey Squires also made an appearance a few minutes later, fuming. “Electricity never made it on tonight, Mayor. Had to shut up shop early.”

A mulish look immediately appeared on Shinn’s face. Harold intervened. “I took the liberty of bringing along some cigars, Mr. Squires. Sit down and relax.”

“Well, thanks, Professor. Don’t mind if I do. What’re our stakes here?”

“I’ll let the majority choose. I’m just as happy to play for nothing, or if you like a quarter apiece.”

“Well, I always find a bet makes the game more exciting,” said Shinn. “Fifty cents per man. How’s that?”

“That’s fine, Mr. Mayor. Everyone else agree?” No one having objected, the pot was started and Marcellus dealt.

Harold spent the first few hands observing his fellow players’ styles. Marcellus was impulsive as usual – _Gotta make sure poor Marce doesn’t get cleaned out._ The mayor was a surprisingly deliberate player, carefully selecting his cards. Locke was quiet, watchful and competent, winning the first hand; and Squires seemed average, with nothing memorable about his playing style. Harold had the feeling he was there more to butter up the mayor than for any enjoyment of the game. Knowing Locke was there to make sure he didn’t cheat, Harold himself focused on being sociable and playing well, but not too well. 

Two hands later, the mayor visibly relaxed, Harold cautiously returned to the subject Squires had raised. “About a week ago Marcellus and I were having dinner at the Paroos’ when the power went out. Does that happen often?”

“More often than I’d like,” Squires answered. Harold nodded and went on to discuss the power systems of other towns he’d visited, all of which functioned worse than River City. “But a few places have some sort of new power system that seems to work better. Of course, that’s mostly in larger places like Dubuque.”

“River City’s budget won’t allow for that,” Shinn replied. He laid down a flush and contemplated it with satisfaction. “What’ve you got, Hill?”

“Three of a kind. Guess the cards aren’t my friends tonight.” Marcellus, visibly excited, held four of a kind. It was to be his only winning hand of the evening (Harold had cheated himself of a ten which would have given him a better hand).

“Calamus though” – Squires returned to the previous subject – “they’re doin’ mighty well. Issued a bond, the town folks bought it, and they’re building a new power station as we speak.”

“– and their roads are terrible,” Shinn answered flatly. “We need to focus on our roads. Beat ‘em at their own game. If that fellow Wheeler thinks Calamus is going to perseverate over River City, he can think again.”

Harold blinked as he tried to make sense of this statement, then nodded. “Absolutely. Who _is_ this fellow Wheeler, by the way?”

“Mayor of Calamus. Can’t stand the man.”

“They’re about five miles north of here, Professor, and they’re by way of being rivals of ours,” Squires explained. “Our high school plays theirs, Mayor Wheeler is always out trying to drum up business for the town –”

“Steal it from us, you mean,” Shinn grumbled. “And I still say Wheeler cheated in the ’88 football finals. Our team should’ve won.”

“You’re never going to let that one go, are you, George?”

“No sir, I am not.”

There was a pause as Locke dealt. Harold picked up his cards and realized he was gazing at a winning hand. For a moment he was strongly tempted to play it, but seeing the mayor looking irritated again, he discarded three cards and eyed his new hand with an inner pang. “I’m out,” he announced. As he looked up from laying down his hand he caught the Constable’s momentary expression of surprise and realized he’d been made. However Locke made no comment and the game continued.

“So you think improving the roads is the way to go?” Harold asked the mayor, as much to get his mind off that winning hand as anything else. The question was more productive than he had thought it would be: Shinn replied at length, probably due to the expanding pile of money in front of him.

“Get folks into River City, that’s my idea. Once they see what we have here, well, they’ll just naturally want to do business with us, maybe even move here. Transportation is the issue. A town with good, reliable roads, no standing water, no mud snarling everything up when it rains… that’s the ticket. And I know just how we’re going to do it.”

“Stone or brick, I suppose? I don’t remember seeing a quarry around here.”

“No, this is something entirely new, Hill. New technology. Don’t want to say too much just yet, but I should have something to present at the next town meeting.” The mayor was beaming, Squires looked unimpressed, Marcellus looked curious and the Constable – the Constable was looking at Harold with an expression that said _What is this about, I wonder?_

The card game broke up shortly afterward, Squires and the Mayor leaving first. “Very enjoyable game, Hill,” Shinn said, briskly shaking his hand. “I’d forgotten how much fun a night of poker can be. Let’s do this again.”

Squires added his thanks and left. “Go on home, Marce, I’ll get this stuff picked up,” Harold offered. “You worked longer than I did today.”

“Well, don’t mind if I do, Greg.” Marcellus’ eyes darted to the Constable, who was still at the table and seemed focused on finishing his cigar. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Once Marcellus was gone Harold sat back down at the table, picked up his own cigar and waited.

“Greg, is it?” Locke asked after a pause.

“Marcellus has known me a long time. No matter how many times I remind him, he can’t remember to call me ‘Harold.’”

“Well now, Professor Harold Hill. You want to tell me why you wasted a perfectly good Friday evening playing poker with the Mayor and me and cheating yourself out of a winning hand?”

“So you _did_ deal me that hand deliberately?” Harold smiled. “You’re good, Constable, very good. I didn’t notice a thing.”

“I couldn’t figure out what you were up to, so I thought I’d see what you did with that hand. You’ve been keeping your nose clean ever since we had that showdown about the band – I’ve been checking – and you weren’t here for money tonight. So what’s going on?”

“You heard what we talked about tonight, Constable. That’s why I’m here. I’ve seen the town’s electrical problems for myself and Miss Paroo has had quite a bit to say about it. She’s done her best to talk to Mayor Shinn, but it hasn’t worked and now it’s my turn. That’s why I arranged the game tonight. This was the best way I could think of to get on his good side.”

“And you care enough about what happens to River City to go to all that trouble?” Locke looked frankly skeptical.

Harold met his gaze squarely. “I’m here to stay, Constable. Here for Miss Marian and her family. Here for Tommy Djilas and his family. And anyone else I can help. So yes, I care about River City and the people in it. If you want to call me altruistic, go ahead. Although the mayor would probably say ‘antagonistic.’” This surprised a laugh out of Locke. “From what I understand, a new electrical system would get power to people in River City who’ve never had it before, especially the folks south of town. And I’ll tell you that from what I’ve seen in my travels the last couple of years gaslight is on its way out. It’s going to take a while, but electricity is the future. And if River City doesn’t have the structure to support new business and new residents, it really doesn’t matter how good the roads are, does it?”

Locke had stubbed out his cigar as Harold was talking. “No it doesn’t. Not that I ever thought the roads were all that bad. That brings up another reason I wanted to talk to you. This new technology the mayor mentioned?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“I’m not sure it exists.”

Harold frowned. “I’m not following you, Constable.”

“To put it bluntly, I think the Mayor’s being led up the garden path by the fellow who wants to sell him this new road building method. I don’t know any details about it, but he calls it ‘revolutionary’ and says that it’s patented. Says it’s going to make old road building methods obsolete. Does that remind you of anything?”

The realization hit Harold suddenly. “Yes it does. That’s exactly the sort of claim I was making about the Think System when I first got to town. So you think he’s trying to swindle the town.”

“I do. And if I’m right, he’ll have his hand in the town funds before we’ve got time to prove him a fake.”

Harold raised his eyebrows. “This fellow aims high, doesn’t he.” He thought for a moment. “But why is the mayor so enthusiastic about this magical new way of building roads? He suspected me right away. Hasn’t he asked for credentials or proof, any hard evidence about the technique?”

“Everybody’s got a weak spot, Mr. Hill. You saw the mayor’s tonight. He’d do anything to get ahead of Mayor Wheeler, absolutely anything. There is just no reasoning with the man, and I’ve tried. I can’t prove this salesman’s a fake, but I thought maybe you could.”

A slow smile made its way across Harold’s face. “Set a thief to catch a thief. That seems appropriate, doesn’t it?”

“You said you wanted to help River City. I’m telling you, here’s your chance.”

“I’ll do it. Get me any information you have on this salesman, and – when’s the next city council meeting?”

“Next Tuesday.” Locke held out his hand and Harold shook. “Thanks, Professor.”

“No, thank _you,_ Constable. I appreciate your trust on this.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Saturdays were normally set aside for Marian to coach Harold on the coming week’s music assignments. Harold had an uncanny ability to hold the boys’ attention and proved surprisingly good as an instructor. Meanwhile, Marian had given him a crash course in reading music and had researched several simple instruction books on learning wind instruments. The band was making progress and their first concert was to be held in three weeks’ time. As the bandleader Harold was now receiving a stipend which he was saving in a fund for his and Marian’s future. They had discussed opening a music store, but as Marian was still supporting her family funds were tight. Harold found this frustrating but reminded himself that it would take time to stabilize not only his finances but his social position in River City. He had not completely overcome the distrust of the town’s residents and the last thing he wanted was to see Marian pay the price for his misdeeds. 

Today, however, their lesson was delayed by Harold’s explanation of what had happened at the poker game the night before. Marian warmly seconded the Constable’s decision to enlist Harold in investigating the road improvement project. 

“I’m glad you approve, I’m going to need your help. I’ve been thinking about this ever since last night.” 

Marian’s expression brightened with an idea. “If this salesman is claiming his method is patented, that’s a big help. Do you know what that means, Harold?’ 

“I think I can guess.” He kissed her forehead. “It’s something that can be checked.” 

“It is indeed. And I think I can find out for you if this patent really exists.” 

“That’s wonderful, Marian.” He looked at her for a moment and thought, yet again, _How did I get so lucky?_ “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

She sat next to him on the piano bench and took his hand. “It’s just the other way around.” 

At the end of the session Harold stacked the music sheets into a neat pile and pulled Marian up from the piano. “Miss Paroo, what are your plans for this evening?” 

“The Harvest Moon dance is tonight at the high school. I’m supposed to be one of the chaperones.” 

“Even though you aren’t a teacher?” 

“I started volunteering as chaperone a few years ago. Mamma thought I’d meet somebody at one of the dances – of course I never did – but I agreed to it because it gave me a chance to talk to parents about sending their children for piano lessons. And I just kept doing it,” she ended with a shrug. 

“What if I were to show up? We could have a dance or two. Or six.” 

Marian brightened instantly. “Oh, Harold, would you really want to go?” 

“You at a dance and me not there? Unheard of. Marian, you will never be at a dance by yourself again. I promise you that.” 

True to his word, Harold slipped into the high school gymnasium about twenty minutes after the dance had started and noted that a few students were dancing but more were standing awkwardly against the walls. He was greeted by Marian with a prim smile but a sparkle in her eyes. Tommy Djilas was almost as glad to see him: “I tried to get them to dance, Professor, but nothing I do seems to work.” 

“Where’s your brother? Isn’t he here tonight?” 

“Andy’s right over there.” Tommy nodded toward his younger brother. 

“Is there a girl I can introduce him to?” 

“Prudence White, in the green dress. She’s the one looking at him.” 

“Got a crush on him, eh? All the better.” Harold walked over to Andy and after a few moments’ talk about the band he led the boy over to a blushing Prudence White. “Miss Paroo and I are going to demonstrate some dance steps. How about you help us?” He winked at Marian and she immediately took his hint. 

“Miss White, may I present Mr. Djilas? Just follow what the Professor and I do.” 

Rather than a waltz or other slow dance, Harold picked a fast two-step that soon had the students gathering around to watch. After a little practice Andy and Prudence proved to have excellent dance form and soon more and more students were joining in. Harold danced Marian back to the refreshment table and was just wondering if they could find a dark corner in the auditorium when a new arrival caught his eye. It was Constable Locke. 

“Do you think he has something to tell you?” Marian whispered. She had seen the Constable enter the room at the same time Harold had. 

“Hope so. I’m going to go have a chat. I’ll be back.” He squeezed her hand and moved to the door. 

“Thought I might find you here.” Locke beckoned him outside, making sure they were away from the students clustered around the entrance to the gym. 

“And here I am. Do you have anything for me?” 

“I do. This fellow’s name is Augustus Higdon. He claims he’s an engineer from Pittsburgh and that he’s worked for some ‘mainstays of the industry.’ No company names, though. He’s a good talker – kind of like you – but he seems to spend all his time with the mayor or the city council. He’s got no time for anybody but them.” The Constable paused. “I’ll say this for you, Professor. No matter what you were up to, you always had time for everybody. You listened. This fellow doesn’t. You’d never catch him spending time with young Winthrop.” 

“I appreciate that,” Harold answered, and he did take some comfort from Locke’s words. Since making the decision to stay in River City he had been aware of a growing sense of guilt, realizing he would never be able to make restitution to everyone he’d swindled. It was his biggest motivation for agreeing to help expose Higdon. “Will he be at the city council meeting this week?” 

“He’ll be there. Sit at the back, look him over and you can tell me what you think after the meeting.” 

Harold managed another two dances with Marian before the evening ended. The teacher in charge of the dance committee thanked them for their help, waved them away and Harold lost no time in getting Marian out of the school. 

She was glowing in the light of the moon. “That was more fun than I’ve ever had at a dance. Harold, I’m so glad you came. Did you have a good time?” 

“I really did.” To his surprise, Harold realized that he wasn’t exaggerating. He had always preferred metropolitan nightlife, but now realized that scaling his expectations down was easier than he’d thought. As he got to know the townsfolk better he was enjoying spending time with them. “I was keeping an eye out for the Mayor, in case he tried to catch Zaneeta dancing with Tommy. Fortunately he didn’t show up.” 

Marian agreed. “We don’t need that kind of drama at a high school dance.” 

“And you know, Andy Djilas has a lot going for him too,” Harold thought out loud. “Smart kid, good with the girls…” 

“A lot like yourself?” 

“Yes. Actually, yes.” Harold had more of a “wrong side of the tracks” background than he ever wanted to admit. Marian clasped his hand and they walked on toward West Elm quietly. 

“There’s your Harvest Moon,” Harold pointed out as they arrived at the house. The full moon’s light made the street look almost magical. 

“It’s beautiful tonight. Why don’t we sit on the porch for awhile?” 

“You must be a mind-reader, Madam Librarian. I was just about to suggest the same thing.” 

With his arm around Marian’s shoulders, the two of them sat in companionable silence for a minute. “Do you know the song ‘Shine on, Harvest Moon’?” Harold mused. “It’s just like that tonight.” 

“I’ve heard it once or twice, but I don’t really know it.” 

“It was big a couple of years ago. You still hear it quite a bit.” 

Marian snuggled closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. “Would you sing it to me?” 

Harold sang softly:

> _Shine on, shine on, harvest moon_  
>  _Up in the sky;_  
>  _I ain't had no lovin' Since April, January, June or July._  
>  _'s no time, ain't no time to stay_  
>  _Outdoors and spoon;_  
>  _So shine on, shine on, harvest moon,_  
>  _For me and my gal._

Marian kissed his cheek. “That was wonderful.”

Harold sighed. “I suppose I should be getting home, but I wish I didn’t have to leave.” 

“So do I.” 

They looked at one another for a moment. Suddenly Harold found words coming that he hadn’t expected to say. “I want it to be like this all the time. Marian, I need to find a way for us to get married.” 

“We will find a way, Harold, I know we will. We just have to be patient –” 

“You’ve waited long enough. I hate everything being so indefinite. I know we decided against us staying on in your house, but maybe we should reconsider that.” 

“I talked to Mamma about it. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea either. There isn’t really that much room, and not enough privacy. And I know it would be hard for her not to be in charge of the house any more. She says a married woman should have her own house to run.” 

“We’re not even formally engaged.” 

“Well, we could be…” 

“Even without being able to set a wedding date? You’d be happy to do that?” 

Marian’s beaming smile told its own story. Impulsively, Harold slipped from his seat and knelt in front of her. “Miss Paroo, will you marry me?” 

“Yes.” 

“A part-time band instructor with a shaky past?” 

“I see a good man who loves me enough to turn his life around and makes me happier than I’ve ever been in my life. Yes, Harold, _yes!_ I love you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, "Shine on Harvest Moon" was a well-known song by 1912. It's over a hundred years old!


	4. Chapter Four

The following Tuesday Harold found his way to the City Council chamber and slipped into a seat in the back row. His brain was still in a whirl over the events of the past three days. Breaking the news of their engagement to Marian’s family had left Mrs. Paroo delirious with joy. Winthrop’s reaction had been quieter but meant even more to Harold.

“So you’re going to stay now for sure?” he had asked hopefully.

Harold’s first reaction had been _Didn’t you already know that?_ until he realized that the boy had been afraid that he and Marian might leave. He squatted down to Winthrop’s level. 

“Yes, we are. Your sister and I are going to live here in town, right near you. We wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. You can count on that, Winthrop.”

“I’m really glad, Professor,” Winthrop had managed before he hugged Harold tightly.

Once the news of their engagement broke (it spread like wildfire after church on Sunday) Harold and Marian had been deluged with congratulations. They had visited the River City jeweler’s store first thing Monday morning; all that day the library saw a steady parade of the town’s ladies coming to admire her engagement ring. To Marian’s delight, some of them had even checked out books.

 

The Council chamber was only about half full. Doubtless River City’s citizens had better things to do that evening than listen to the mayor pontificate. Just as this thought crossed Harold’s mind the mayor and council members entered the room, headed to the dais at the front. They were followed by the members of the school board, who sat in the front row; before sitting down Jacey Squires eyed the room and registered that Harold was present, giving him a nod. There was one other man seated with them. Slightly younger than the mayor, he looked as if he’d be more comfortable in shirt sleeves than with his suit coat on. Higdon – for surely it must be he – elbowed Oliver Hix for emphasis as he finished telling a joke. Harold winced at the man’s lack of subtlety just as the constable slid into a seat next to him; the mayor slammed his gavel on the table and the meeting began.

The first forty minutes were taken up with basic issues including a discussion of the town’s annual property taxes, soon to come due. Business owners and a few gadfly citizens argued with the treasurer about collection and documentation, until the mayor stopped the disagreement with a decisive “We’ll keep the money here as it comes in. End of next week we’ll set up a committee to count it with the treasurer if you want.” The last item on the agenda was new business, and at this point both Harold and Constable Locke began to pay more attention.

The mayor stood. “I have something important to announce. This is Augustus Higdon, from the great state of Pennsylvania, and I have reason to believe that what he brings with him will change River City’s future. For the better,” he added, causing Harold to smother a grin. “I ask you to pay close attention to what he has to say.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor!” Higdon smiled, coming forward. “It is truly a privilege for me to speak with you today. It was a lucky day indeed when I met Mayor Shinn and he graciously invited me to present to you this revolutionary process – but I’m getting ahead of myself. I am a civil engineer and my specialty is roads.” He looked around the room, beaming. “That may not sound very exciting to you, but I have made it my life’s work to do everything I can to improve transportation in this great country of ours. Roads and highways, gentlemen, mean commerce. They mean communication. Goods and services.”

Harold had to admire the man’s command of language. In a few sentences Higdon had everyone present sitting up and paying attention as he sketched a picture of the twentieth century unfolding bigger and brighter year by year, all due to… what? Asphalt?

“Vulcanization is the thing. With our process your roads will last longer, shed water when it rains… less mud on the streets… less stress on the horses…” the mayor was beaming proudly and nearly every man in the room looked more enthusiastic than they had all evening.

Except the constable. The cynical gleam in his eye brought Harold back to earth. He struggled to take mental notes and realized that Higdon had given almost no hard facts in his talk. He eyed Jacey Squires, hoping that he would remember the list of questions Harold had given him, as Higdon reached the end of his presentation. But Squires made no move.

“Questions, gentlemen?” the Mayor beamed.

“Well, sir, I have one or two.” Constable Locke got to his feet. “How exactly would this arrangement work, with your special process and all?” 

Higdon explained that he would make arrangements with his home company in “Western Pennsylvania” to ship equipment and supplies and to send men familiar with the process to complete the road project. “It would require a deposit, of course.”

_Of course,_ Harold echoed mentally. _That’s the way we do it._

“And your bona fides? Any recommendations from towns or cities that have benefited from your special process?” Locke pursued blandly. 

“Absolutely, I’d be happy to get those for you.”

Meanwhile Jacey Squires was finally showing signs of casting off the spell Higdon had woven. “I’d like to know where you trained, sir, and some information about your company. How long they’ve been in business, and so forth.” 

For the first time Higdon looked slightly unsure of himself. He cast a glance aside at the Mayor, who stepped forward. “I can take care of all that for you, Squires, we’ll discuss it later. I can see you’re all interested, and that’s all I wanted to know for now. Let’s get on with the rest of the agenda.”

 

Harold and Locke left the meeting at the same time. “Well, what do you think?” the constable asked once they were safely away from City Hall.

“I wouldn’t play poker with him.”

Locke gave a snort of amusement. “I should say not.”

“He’s good. Didn’t really tell us a thing. He’s got the mayor covering for him, all he needs is to get that deposit and he’ll disappear. But…” 

Harold let his sentence trail off, frowning.

“But what?”

“It’s too high risk. Can he really sell something this big to the city council without explaining where he works, what other towns have used this process? Even where he went to engineering school? A decision this big takes time.”

“You think he could be after something else?”

“I’m getting that feeling, but I don’t know what.”

Locke clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Well, sleep on it and get back to me.”

 

Harold slept on it more than once. But by the end of the week he still had no idea what Higdon stood to gain. Marian had confirmed one thing: the man was a fraud. Harold dropped into the library two days later for a quick lunch with her; as they sat in the book sorting room he repeated the pitch Higdon had given the City Council at the meeting.

“Vulcanization?” Marian repeated. “That can’t be right.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a process that’s used on rubber, Harold.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Rubber roads? _Rubber roads?_ ” he repeated, and began to shake with laughter. “Can’t you just imagine it?”

Marian was giggling as well. “Everyone would be springing into the air every time they took a step. Once you tell the City Council about this they’ll laugh him out of town.”

Harold sobered again. “If we get that far.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told Constable Locke after the meeting that something about this whole proposal felt strange to me. It still does, even more so now that we know he’s got to be a fake. How could he seriously expect to sell a project this big to any town? Band instruments take six weeks. This is more likely to take six months.”

“So you think he’s after something else.”

“I do. I just don’t know what it is.”

Marian thought for a moment. “What else did they talk about at the meeting?”

“Taxes, mostly. Property taxes are due now –” Marian grimaced in agreement. “And there was a lot of talk about getting an accountant to work with the finance committee. And then the mayor got tired of the arguing and he said…” Harold paused.

“What?”

“He said they’d keep the money in City Hall temporarily until they could make arrangements for that to happen.” Comprehension flashed across his features. 

“Harold, you mean –” They stared at each other. “But how would he get access to the money?”

“He’s got the mayor in his back pocket. That’s all he needs. Marian, I’ve got to find the constable.” He kissed her and left.


	5. Chapter 5

Constable Locke had an office at the city jail, but was seldom to be found in it. Most of the time he could be seen wandering around town, “just keeping an eye on things” as he liked to phrase it. Harold eventually ran him to earth outside a warehouse, supervising the unloading of a heavy wagon and chatting with the foreman. At Harold’s appearance he nodded and exchanged a final sentence or two with the crew unloading the wagon; as they left the younger man noted that Locke was careful to check the nearby alleys for loiterers. 

Harold jerked his head back toward the warehouse. “Anything important?”

“Pretty big shipment. The owner was nervous about it, so I thought I’d stop by. Makes people feel better if they know that I’m around.” He smiled benignly, but Harold was not fooled.

“I’ve learned a few things since we started working together, Constable. I’m pretty sure you’re the power behind the scenes in this town.” 

Locke shrugged. “I like to help people, same as you do. And I care for this town. Grew up here from a boy. George Shinn and I go back a long way – we went to high school together. I didn’t marry rich the way he did, and I don’t have those politician’s skills, but I knew I could work with him and give him a nudge when he needed it. My deputy – Thorne, you’ve met him – he’s a good young fellow, but he doesn’t see the long game like I do. You’re the only one I’ve met who does.” He fell silent for a few moments. “The times are changing. River City’s got to change with them. But not too much. It would break my heart to see River City lose its soul in a grab for success.”

“I’d hate to see that too,” Harold agreed. He was not sure where the conversation was going, and was genuinely surprised by what the Constable said next: 

“Well, Professor, what I’m getting at is I think you could be a real asset to this town. It’s early days yet, but I know you’re going to be settling down here. I hope you’ll keep attending the city council meetings. I can tell you who’s who and what’s what. I’m not going to be around here forever, and I’d like to think that there’s someone around who can keep an eye on River City after I retire.”

“Well, I – I – yes. I’d like that.” It was not often Harold found himself at a loss for words. He pulled himself together and added, “Anything you think I can do, or that you can teach me, I’d be happy to learn.”

Locke smiled and gave a nod of approval. “Good. Now, what is it you came hunting me down for?”

Harold quickly sketched the conversation he had had with Marian. Locke’s reaction was predictably low-key. “So that’s his game, is it?” he mused. “Pretty clever.” Harold found himself mildly irritated for a moment until the Constable’s next words showed that he was taking his theory seriously.

“City Hall has a safe deposit box – that’s where they keep the money. How d’you reckon he’d get a key?”

“Does the Mayor have one?”

“Yes, he does. But I can tell you George Shinn is shrewd enough not to go leaving his keys lying around.”

“You said he’d been spending a lot of time with the Mayor and the Board. Good enough terms with them that he could drop in at City Hall without anyone getting suspicious?”

“Yes. Now you mention it, I keep finding him there. Takes the Mayor to lunch sometimes.” 

“How nice for him. He’s probably figured out the easiest way to break in and where the keys are likely to be. ”

“And when do you think he’d be likely to break in, Professor? Got any ideas on that one?”

Harold stared absently across the street. Then his gaze sharpened and he pointed at a banner hung outside River City High School:

HOMECOMING GAME  
River City v. Calamus  
Saturday, November 9  
Cheer the Gophers to Victory!

“I assume the Mayor’s going to be there?”

“Of course. Everyone will.” A light dawned on Locke’s face. “Well, well. You’ve done it again, Professor. Looks like we won’t be making it to the game.”

 

The next Saturday afternoon found Locke, Harold and Marcellus hidden at various points around City Hall. Locke assigned their spots and gave each man a bright red kerchief.   
“When you see him, don’t make a sound,” he cautioned. “Wait till he goes in, then wave this and we’ll see it.”

Marcellus blew on his hands to warm them. “I could imitate an owl if you want.” He gave an experimental _whoo-whoo._ “What do you think?”

“When was the last time you heard an owl at two in the afternoon?” The Constable gave him a scathing look. “No fancy stuff, now. Just wave that handkerchief.”

Marcellus was assigned to watch the front of City Hall – clearly the least likely spot for a break-in. Locke shook his head as he and Harold moved around the side of the building. 

“That friend of yours. Means well, but don’t try to tell me you didn’t have to pull him out of jams back in the day, because I wouldn’t believe you.”

Harold chuckled. “He quit working with me a while back and that’s exactly why. But he’s the best friend I ever had.” At the Constable’s instruction he concealed himself by the side door, while Locke took the fire escape.

They waited. The town was almost completely silent, but after a few minutes Harold heard the sound of distant cheers from the football field. The only other noise was the whistle of a train arriving at the depot. The brisk sound of booted steps a few minutes later was loud by comparison. Harold peered around the hedge and saw Higdon standing at the side door manipulating the lock. Less than two minutes later he was inside; as the door swung shut Harold waved the handkerchief and saw Locke emerge almost immediately. Marcellus appeared a few moments later, and the three men converged on the door.

“We need to block his way out,” Locke whispered. “Washburn, you stay here by the door. Professor, come with me.” Harold tiptoed up the main staircase as quietly as possible, following in the Constable’s wake. They listened at the door to the Mayor’s office for a few moments, hearing the splinter of wood as Higdon forced the drawer open. Leaving Harold by the door to the office, Locke stepped into the room.

“That’s enough, Higdon.” The Constable did not raise his voice, but held his nightstick with an air of authority. “You’re coming with us. Hill, put the cuffs on him.” Higdon spun around, staring at the other two men. 

“There’s been a mistake,” he stammered. “The Mayor has something of mine here –"

“Uh huh.” 

“You’re wrong! I’m a highly respected engineer!”

“From a company you haven’t told us anything about,” Harold commented as he restrained the man. “And one other thing, Mr. Higdon. That vulcanization process you talked about? It doesn’t work on roads.”

Higdon stared at him through narrowed eyes. “I’ve seen you around town. Mayor Shinn pointed you out, said you tried to form a band or some such.”

“I am the bandleader, yes. Part time.”

“Harold Hill, he called you. I’ve heard of you, you’re a swindler!” He appealed to Locke. “Why’re you arresting me? You want a crook, you’ve got one standing right in front of you!”

“That’s enough out of you,” the Constable answered sternly. “This young fellow is worth a dozen of you. Yes, I know what he’s done. But I also know he’s done his best to change his ways and help this town.”

“Gone legit.” Higdon sounded as if he were ready to spit on the carpet. “You’ve sold me out, and I kept my mouth shut for you, Hill! Brotherhood of the road! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Harold was infuriated by Higdon’s words. “Keep quiet and let you steal this town’s tax revenues? Absolutely not. River City deserves better than that!”

“Enough, Hill.” Locke put a hand on his shoulder. “Walk with me. We’re going to get him locked up and then your work’s done for today.” 

The two men escorted Higdon downstairs and out the door, where they were met by Marcellus. No words were spoken as they headed to the jail, but noise from the football game could still be heard in the distance. Locke uncuffed the prisoner, pointed him into the jail cell and turned the key then walked Harold and Marcellus back to the front of the building.

“You did good work today, both of you.” Unlike Marcellus, who was beside himself with excitement, Harold was silent. Locke gave him a closer look. 

“You okay, Professor?”

Harold forced himself to smile. “Fine, I’m fine. Thank you, Constable.”

“You asking yourself if you did the right thing?”

“I know I did the right thing. But what that fellow said wasn’t wrong. I’m still a crook.”

Locke waved Marcellus out the door. “Give me a minute to talk to the Professor, would you?” Once alone, he turned back to the younger man. “There’s more to you than I thought there was, Hill. You’ve stuck around, took on a tough job, did your best to live up to what you promised the people here. The Paroo family depends on you and you haven’t let them down. It’s going to take you a long time to live down your past, we both know that. But you can do it if you want to. And I meant what I said before, you could be a real asset to this town.”

Harold met the Constable’s steady gaze. For the first time that he could remember, he felt no uneasiness. No guilt, no trying to remember the most recent lies he’d told a mark. He was just himself.

“Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me.”

The Constable shook his hand. “Now get out there and go see your young lady.”

 

A few days later Harold was leaving the school auditorium after the final rehearsal for the upcoming band concert. Across the street Constable Locke waved to catch his attention; the Mayor was standing next to him. 

“Hill! Ah, John Locke told me what fine work you’d done apprehending the Higdon fellow. Appreciate it.” The Mayor looked extremely uncomfortable. 

“Why, thank you, Mr. Mayor. I’m glad I was able to help. And I want to thank the Constable for asking me to assist him.” Harold smiled at Locke, who was watching Shinn’s discomfort with a look of mild amusement.

“Yes, well. We’ve got some news for you.” The Mayor waved toward Locke, who stepped forward.

“Professor, once we got Higdon locked up I telegraphed a friend of mine in Des Moines. He tells me this fellow has quite a record of theft and there’s a reward out for him. One thousand dollars, to be exact. So I had a little chat with Mayor Shinn and we both agree that you deserve this reward for your help. Don’t we, George?” The Constable gave Shinn a meaningful look.

“Absolutely, absolutely. Your penurious efforts really made a difference here.” Seeing Locke’s raised eyebrow, the Mayor stammered for a moment. “Ah, what I mean to say is…”   
Locke chuckled and clapped his old friend on the back. “What he means is that we owe you, Professor. You look a bit surprised there.”

Surprised was an understatement; Harold was stunned. “One thousand dollars?” he repeated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Higdon caused a lot of trouble for a lot of communities, and you stopped him. And what with you and Miss Paroo planning to get married and all, well, I couldn’t think of a finer use for that money.”

The Constable’s reference to Marian snapped Harold out of his dream. “Wait till I tell her! We didn’t know how long it would be before we could – oh, this is unbelievable! Thank you, Constable! Mr. Mayor!” He shook both men’s hands and darted down the street so quickly that he had to clap his hand to his head to keep from losing his hat.  
As they watched him go, George Shinn turned to the Constable. “You had to give him all the money?”

“He needs it more than I do, George. Besides, now he knows that sometimes it pays to be on the straight and narrow. Think of it as an investment. River City will benefit from young Mr. Hill sticking around.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he wound up being mayor someday,” Shinn growled.

“Neither would I, George. But you don’t need to worry, I’m tutoring him. He has a ways to go yet but he’s coming along pretty well. Miss Paroo’s going to keep him toeing the line too, and between the two of us he’ll be fine.”

“If you say so, John.” Shinn shrugged. “Anything else?”

“Well now, about that power plant, George. You really should think it over…”

The Mayor groaned.

THE END


End file.
